


It Doesn't Have to Hurt

by sevenlostkeys



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020), Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Dragatha, F/M, Ficlet, Stolen Moments, Vampires, these two just slay me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenlostkeys/pseuds/sevenlostkeys
Summary: Dracula got more than he bargained for when he bit Agatha.
Relationships: Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing, Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	It Doesn't Have to Hurt

“Come, boy, and suckle.” 

Agatha hadn’t really thought it through. It was a split-second decision. 

Her or Mina. 

Mina was a rare flower. She could escape, keep her petals intact. 

But Agatha...she’d never been a flower. Perhaps a hardy herb, wild rosemary in the winter. For remembrance. 

She wasn’t too worried about if she’d be remembered. Dracula’s cold breath ran across her bare chest, the sharp fangs slipping into her neck with ease. Mina’s scream felt very far away, even though she had been centimeters from her. 

“It doesn’t have to hurt,” he murmured.  
…

The moment his teeth hit her veins, he could feel that rush -- the one that comes from tasting someone else. It was a divine irony -- as their life slowly slipped away, it burst into vibrant color in his mind with each sip. Thoughts, memories, doubts, regrets...they all muddled together like a fine vintage. It was a pity he cared nothing for wine. 

But she was different. An odd intensity, one not usually found in his victims of the softer sex. 

She’d debased him outside the monastery, begging for mere drops of her blood on a dull blade. He’d enjoyed their games, that sort of rare spirit. It only came around every few hundred years. 

It almost made him regret the delicate dance he played with his victims. She had been so brave, so utterly willing. Certainly, his brides begged favors of him constantly, but her eyes had pleaded with him, almost out of boredom, “Well, come on then.” 

He pressed his tongue firm against her neck, tasting salt and incense dust. He had to slow down. She shouldn’t be drained dry, nor made a bride. She was something different altogether. 

…

She was slipping away, encased completely in the velvet darkness. At first, it felt like she’d been trapped under ice but she was slowly beginning to unthaw, one cell at a time. It felt a bit like floating. 

Was she dead? Still alive? She couldn’t focus. Wherever she was, it wasn’t heaven or hell. And she wasn’t afraid of Dracula’s dreams. She willed herself to drop deeper.

…

What was that taste? It was escaping him. Food was only laid out so he could eventually feed on those that partook of the trap. But she was conjuring memories from his childhood. Perhaps a bit of cheese he’d stolen from his father’s table, the finest drizzle of wildflower honey pinched from the hive, the scent of pine needles after a midmorning storm. 

He pulled away from her then, gasping. 

Her head fell back, her long chestnut hair tangled within his taloned hands. Her wounds were weeping, a dark garnet trail collecting in her collarbone. Cradling her head in his left arm, he softly pressed his right hand to her heart. He could hear it, a faint echo, like a butterfly caught under glass. 

He would make her last.

**Author's Note:**

> The first two episodes* of BBC/Netflix's Dracula were just chef's kiss. Dracula/Agatha is a ridiculously underrated pairing, so happy spooky season. Steven Moffat owns my soul. 
> 
> *plus the last ten minutes of episode 3. I'm acting like that Lucy subplot never happened, thanks.


End file.
